


Fireworks

by swooning



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:57:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3703567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swooning/pseuds/swooning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was a response to Doomspark's original page 394 challenge in 2005 (the rules of the challenge are listed in the author's note). It was originally posted on Ashwinder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> Doomspark's Page 394 Challenge: 
> 
> 1\. Take the nearest five thick books. If you don't have five thick books near you, go to the bookshelf. If you're too lazy to do that, use fewer than five.  
> 1a. None of the Harry Potter books are allowed, however. Anyone doing that will have a week's detention with Snape, and it won't be that sort of detention. It will involve scrubbing cauldrons and pickling pig foetuses.  
> 2\. Turn to page 394.  
> 3\. Take the second sentence on that page of each book.  
> 4\. Arrange the sentences to form as coherent a story as possible.  
> 5\. Post your wacky tale in your LJ with these instructions.
> 
> Reaching into my handy-dandy bookcase, I came up with the following: 
> 
> The Riverside Shakespeare (from As You Like It, IV.iii.)  
> "Can a woman rail thus?"
> 
> Les Miserables by Victor Hugo (Signet Classics paperback edition)  
> 'About six in the evening they drew into Chelles.'
> 
> Remembrance of Things Past (Swann's Way) by Marcel Proust  
> 'Furthermore, it suggests reasons of personal propriety only, rather than of disapprobation or moral impossibility.'
> 
> Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke  
> "Has something happened?"
> 
> The Dictionary of Imaginary Places by Alberto Manguel and Gianni Guadalupi  
> 'It was in this castle that the 150 knights of the Round Table spent their last night together before dispersing on the quest for the Holy Grail.' (referring to Vagon Castle, near Camelot)

"Oooh, listen to this one. Severus, are you listening?" Hermione looked up from the vivid three-color brochure from Welltrod's Wizarding Tours, waiting for eye contact before she continued. With a resigned sigh, Severus placed his finger in his book to mark his page and gave her his attention. "Vagon Castle, near Camelot. 'Shielded from Muggle eyes since the early 800's, this historic castle boasts some of the most beautifully refurbished guest suites in the Somerset region.' There's more… oh, here it says 'It was in this castle that the 150 knights of the Round Table spent their last night together before dispersing on the quest for the Holy Grail.' And think how close to all those standing stones and holy wells, we could just explore for days… Severus? Are you paying attention?"   
  
"Of course. Vagon. Guest suites. Holy wells. Fascinating." His eyes began to slip back down to the page he'd been reading.   
  
"Severus! You're not contributing. You said we would plan this trip together, and we agreed on history and Somerset. Now every time I start talking about it, you glaze over and look as though you'd rather be teaching first-years than participating in planning our summer holiday. Has something happened?"   
  
"'Can a woman rail thus?'" he quipped, and Hermione's eyes narrowed.   
  
"You said you wanted to do this. It was actually your idea. Now I'm not so sure I want to go off anywhere with you, you… you… ugh!" With that noise of disgust, Hermione swept the brochures into the dustbin and stomped out of Severus' quarters.   
  
Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, Severus sighed again. Rising slowly, as if exhausted, he stepped over to the desk and leaned down to pluck the discarded tour advertisements from the bin. Then, after looking at them disconsolately for a moment, he let them fall back in with the rest of the rubbish and went looking for Hermione. 

  
***

  
"I still don't understand why you didn't just say so in the first place," she said, looking at him with a mix of fondness and irritation. "This was a perfectly wonderful idea for a holiday." He continued to stare directly ahead, urging her with a strained, silent gesture to keep her eyes on the road. Hermione complied, with a smirk at his tight-lipped demeanor. Much like she herself felt on a broomstick, she surmised. Severus kept one arm braced against the dashboard, the other curled protectively around the door handle, and winced whenever Hermione applied the brakes or took a corner.   
  
As neither of them had ever been to the hotel in question, they couldn't Apparate there directly. Besides, Hermione was amused at the prospect of driving Severus around in a Muggle car. The reality did not disappoint. About six in the evening, they drew into Chelles. When they finally parked, Severus stepped out of the car as shakily and gratefully as any seasick passenger returning to dry land. His relief at being out of the car was rapidly dispelled, however, by his disappointment at the decidedly Muggle, decidedly low-budget accommodations. The Comfort Inn in Chelles was the closest they'd been able to get to Paris, having made their reservations just two days previously on July 12th. Now, as the evening of the 14th drew nigh, the city was teeming with revelers, making it highly unlikely the latecomers would find an alternative to the merely-adequate lodgings.   
  
Hermione resisted the urge to say 'If you'd admitted it sooner…' and led the way from the check-in counter to their somewhat dingy room.   
  
"From here we can Apparate to the library and back," she reminded him, "so let's get a good fix on this room before we leave." Depositing their minimal luggage, they ventured out for a light supper in a nearby bistro, Hermione handling all the money and Severus eating very little of the food, which he clearly found less than appealing. But conversation overtook them, and it was well after nine o'clock when they finally returned to the hotel. They took a final look around, and then clung to one another as Hermione Apparated them both to the Bibliotheque Magique Consolidee de l'Europe, the largest library in the European wizarding world. Hermione had worked at the B.M.C.E. for three years before taking over the post of librarian at Hogwarts upon Madame Pince's retirement. She still corresponded regularly with the European library's director, and he had helped her arrange to meet Severus' last-minute request for a change in plans.  
  
"Why haven't you ever come before, if you always wanted to see it?" she pressed him, as she led him up the darkened stairways of the library. "I mean, England's not so far. If it was your dream holiday, why not just take it?"   
  
"Such frivolity was never encouraged among the Death Eaters," he reminded her. "Is it much further? We must have come up ten stories already."   
  
"Not much further. Four more stories. We're nearly there. It will be worth it." Hermione continued doggedly up the steps, Severus lagging behind a bit as his energy flagged.   
  
At last, they reached the final landing. With a flourish, Hermione opened the door to the roof of the monolithic library, and led Severus out to a view of Paris by evening that took even his jaded breath away. The sea of rooftops spread before them, an endless vista of warm windows in dark walls, surrounded by the white and red lights of cars, all unfurled in a glorious sparkling carpet beneath the deepening blue-black of the sky.  
  
Hermione grinned and pointed at the large wicker hamper sitting on a red-checked tablecloth, holding it down in the light, warm, breeze. A single candle in a heavy brass candlestick stood nearby, lighting the scene just enough for practicality, without interfering with the view. Her friend had provided them more than just roof access, it seemed; Hermione made a mental note to send him a warm thanks as soon as she had access to an owl. The two sat down and opened the hamper to find wine, cheese, bread and fruit. For a few minutes they simply sat and drank their wine in companionable near-silence, hearing only the distant noises of traffic and the occasional swell of sound from the growing crowd of merrymakers on the street far below.   
  
"It's a pity we couldn't make it last night, to go to any of the Firemen's Balls. I hear they're quite lively."   
  
Severus sneered, and suggested she try to picture him at such an event.  
  
"You're right. I can't do it. You'd just bring the mood down, if you tried," she said dryly. "Your very sneer speaks volumes about your opinion of such low entertainments as raucous dances."  
  
"Nonsense," he replied with a smirk. "That sneer was nothing like my classroom sneer. I have a wide range, you know. The one you just saw is carefully calculated to be relatively mild and inoffensive. Furthermore, it suggests reasons of personal propriety only, rather than of disapprobation or moral impossibility."  
  
"You just don't care to be jostled, is that it?"  
  
"Except by certain persons, of course."  
  
"Really? Hmmm…" She moved over to his side of the cloth, sitting next to him and snuggling in, drawing his arm over her shoulder. "Here's a jostle for you, then."   
  
They heard the opening strains of "Le Marseillaise" drifting up from a nearby plaza. Suddenly, the gathering darkness above them was splintered by a burst of white light and the delayed crack of a rocket launch. The incredible Bastille Day fireworks had begun.


End file.
